


honey, ask me

by Laurelgand



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: (Last two are just mentioned!), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, There's a bunch of backstory stuff in the beginning, This is set like 10ish years into the 20 year gap between MK9 AND MK10, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but one of them has magic so like no worries, but y'all can enjoy the smut too, cause this is part of a much larger fic i probs won't post, i have only an approximate knowledge of this fandom but will that stop my porn peddling?, no, okay, perhaps maybe the most indulgent thing I've ever written, this is just an elaborate set-up for smashing Kenshi and my oc okay?, this is tender af porn with feelings okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurelgand/pseuds/Laurelgand
Summary: ' “This table is very much in my way,” she said, pulling away just enough to speak, and his breathing had already grown heavy. One of his hands drifted up, fingers caressing her shoulder and along her neck; she shuddered, an action Kenshi caught, and his lips fell to the left side of her neck, teasing kisses along the length. “ Kenshi ,” she gasped, half scolding, and he was the one to laugh this time.'tender-ass porn, you're welcome
Relationships: Kenshi Takahashi/Original Female Character, Takahashi Kenshi/Original Female Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	honey, ask me

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be honest and say i have no excuse for this. I love me some Kenshi and only have a partially working knowledge of the MK series but that's never stopped me before. It ends kind of abruptly 'cause it's a piece of a big fic and it seemed a good place for a comedic cut
> 
> So, here's your girl at it again, working as your local amateur smut slinger. enjoy this unedited filth and lemme know what y'all think!

Xiaoli had been on the S-F base nearly two weeks now, the military leadership struggling to find a place for her to go. In the aftermath of the war, most of their allies had been devastated and struggled to rebuild from the ashes. She had seen her share of that war, and it had been as terrible as any war she’d seen in Outworld. And in Outworld, at least for a time, the rules had been followed. Mortal Kombat solved most problems and avoided all out conflicts. But she had known her people, and known the domination Shao Khan had inflicted upon them. When denied, he became a terrifying, nigh unstoppable monster, but what had come after… even her flight from war hadn’t stopped her from sensing it.

Death on a scale she’d never imagined, even in her darkest nightmares. Millions had died, been resurrected, and put down again. And, like the coward she was, Xiaoli had run from it. She hadn’t raised a finger to help and it shamed her deeply. She had nowhere to go because their allies had all been ravaged.

Sonya sighed as she read over a report in her data pad. “Goddamnit. The Lin Kuei are out as safehouse for Li. The Grandmaster is having trouble with an ‘old enemy’, apparently.” She flicked her gaze up to Xiaoli, who frowned.

“If you cannot find someone who can take me in, I will hold no will ill, General. The wars have made refugees of us all, and I understand if your allies are unwilling to take in a stranger because of it.” She didn’t blame them in the least. Xiaoli was an unknown, she wasn’t even human (though she hadn’t offered that and they hadn’t asked), and she knew it was asking a lot of someone to take in a woman who wasn’t a well-known variable. “I have been alone for a long time; it will not kill me to be again.”

Kenshi made a soft sound from the corner of the room, always a voice of good-humored reason. She almost hated keeping her distance from him, but he frightened her. His casual attempt at reading her mind had shaken her deeply, and she feared what he might find. He might be able to read her, and he would see a thousand years of her life, or he might not be able to read her at all and that would give her away just as surely. Kenshi was a good man, but good men often did the right thing, and she wasn’t sure what she counted as.

“The being alone itself might not kill you, but being alone when assailants arrive surely will,” Kenshi said, his beard hiding most of the frown that played on his lips. “I might have a solution, but it’s not my first choice. Or even my second.” He said, crossing his arms now. “I have a friend who may take you in, but you would have to help him in his… _endeavors_.” Hesitance echoed in his tone, and it sent a wave of nervousness through her. If he were wary about his own friend, what danger did that put her in?

Johnny rolled his eyes, “you’re leaving us in suspense here, buddy. What’d you got in mind?”

“The Shirai-Ryu.” He said, and a chill ran down her spine at his words. Even she knew who they were, what had happened to them, and now who rebuilt them. They had been a powerful ninja clan, and she’d had her own run-ins with them over the centuries. They’d been led by many different men who had different definitions of honor. She’d been hunted by them, and saved by them, as their Grandmasters changed and her face shifted through magic. She’d only recently begun wearing her own, true face again within the last twenty years.

“Really, Kenshi? I know Hanzo is your friend, but after everything he’s done…” she trailed off, and Kenshi stood up to his full height, chin stuck out in a rare display of irritation. Kenshi, from what she had seen in the brief time she’d know him, was not a confrontational man. He let his words soothe people and situations, and his humor calm the suspicious, but he rarely argued with his allies and it struck her that he defended Hanzo so ferociously. That alone garnered her interest.

“After everything he was _forced_ to do.” His tone was sharper than she’d heard from him before. It both unnerved and excited her. “The Grandmaster was as enslaved as Jax was, but for far longer. Hanzo deserves the benefit of the doubt, Sonya. You do not know him as I do, or the agony he has suffered through.” Sonya opened her mouth to argue and Kenshi didn’t look ready to back down at all; Xiaoli cleared her throat.

“I trust Kenshi’s judgement, General.” She interjected, silencing the building argument before it could begin. Kenshi’s head followed her voice, and he wore a vaguely shocked expression. “I see no other options, and it is my choice whether I go or not. If their Grandmaster would have me, I would be honored to assist and earn my place under his protection.” And it wasn’t as though she had many other places to go. She could leave on her own, and risk being caught unawares by herself, she could stay at the S-F base and overstay her welcome, or she could pledge herself to the service of a Grandmaster in exchange for his protection.

Sonya frowned as she nodded. “Fine. As much as I don’t like it, I’m outvoted and I can’t tell you to do jack since you’re not my soldier.” She pointed at Kenshi, though the gesture was more out of habit than attempting to get his attention, “until she’s under Grandmaster Hasashi’s guard, you’re in charge of her safety, Kenshi. What do we do if he rejects her though?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it, General.” Kenshi replied coolly, tucking his arms behind his back and standing tall. “Li?” he asked, tone softening as he turned his attentions back to her. “May we speak more of this in private? Hanzo is a delicate subject amongst the S-F.” His tone suggested urgency and she nodded, though felt foolish as she remembered he couldn’t see her gesture.

“That would be best, I think,” she said, eyeing Sonya’s sour facial expression. “General Blade,” she started, moving toward the woman’s large steel desk, “I would like to thank you. I am truly grateful for the weeks you have allowed me to stay among your people. It is the safest, and least lonely, I have felt in a long time.” Longer than she could ever admit to the rest of them. Xiaoli bowed deeply, right fist cupped in her left palm in front of her chest; she would never forget their kindness, their concern, and she smiled as she lifted from her bow. “Should our paths ever cross again, know that you will have an ally in me.”

Sonya hesitated, an emotion she couldn’t place shifting back and forth in her eyes, but as quickly as it had come it was gone. “I only hope I never have to call on you for that help.”

“Hope springs eternal, General. Hope against hope itself, and should that fail, I will come. That is a promise.” Sonya nodded.

“Appreciated, Li. Everyone else, you’re dismissed.”

Kenshi’s middle and ring finger brushed over Xiaoli’s bare shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine, but she ignored it in favor of observing the way the tight skin of his face smoothed back into the nonchalant, neutral expression he usually wore. His hand moved more firmly, cupping the uppermost part of her arm, and she realized he’d been finding their position in the room; how close she was to him, and how near he was in relation to the rest of the room. Kenshi didn’t speak, but he hadn’t needed to. She read his body language well enough. _Follow me_ , it said, and she did so without hesitation.

The silence they walked in was comfortable, unbothered, and though she was burning with curiosity about his plan, she didn’t break the companionable moment for petty thoughts. Kenshi had been stiff, cut-off from her since she’d rejected his foray into her mind. She had been too startled to do anything but react, angry and violated by his intrusion, and he had been just as struck by her emotion. They’d spoken, of course, but little more than greetings, goodbyes, and shallow small talk, and he’d kept himself a respectful distance away. And perhaps that was why she was so unnerved by his proximity. It hadn’t helped that she avoided contact with other beings and his feather-light touch had set alight a _need_ in her belly. She hadn’t been held, touched, in a nonviolent way in over a decade. She’d read about touch-starvation, but feeling it such a keen way… she’d wondered how she’d ever lived without it.

Kenshi broke the silence first. “We can speak in my quarters, if that’s alright. I know Sonya wouldn’t dare set bugs, not when I can hear the feedback they put off,” he chuckled, “especially since the last time she did, I collected them and left them for her on her desk.” Xiaoli unsuccessfully fought back a laugh, and he smiled down at her; she’d never considered how much larger he was than her, lean and tall, but she found it thrilled her.

“I would scold her paranoia, but my own has saved my life more times than I can count, so I cannot blame her.” She kept in stride with him, less than a foot away from him at any time. “I gather that the S-F does not trust your friend the Grandmaster.”

“No, they do not. And while I do not fault them…”

“It vexes anyhow.” She finished for him, stopping in front of a sliding door, steel framed and covered by thin paper squares. He slid it open and bowed his head to her.

“Ladies first,” he insisted, a quirk to his smile that almost made her laugh again. She walked in, slipping her shoes off by the door and padding in. The room was mostly bare, though she hadn’t expected much decoration from a blind man, with only an ajar closet that held sparse clothing, the rolled and folded layers of a futon in one corner, and a low, hardwood table with a tea set and a warming plate nearly in the center of the room. He followed in after her, bending to undo the laces on his boots, and set them beside her shoes when he finished. The room was humble, simple, but comforting, and she mused at how alike Kenshi’s space was to his demeanor. She eyed his tea set again.

“May I serve us tea?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” he replied, following her voice and shuffling steps as she moved to the table, flicked the hotplate’s burner on, plucked the teapot from its space on the tray, and moved to the sink to fill it with water. He knelt opposite of where she had been, his hands in his lap and legs folded formally under him. “I imagine you must have questions.”

“Many,” she agreed, filling the pot with filtered water and then returning with it, settling it down on the heat. Xiaoli knelt as well and touched the lid of one of the tea tins, unsurprised to find raised dots in a pattern on them. “But the most pressing is this one. You said Hanzo would not have been even your second choice. Why?” She selected a tea, one she was sure was a citrus and jasmine blend, and took a scoop from it for each cup she’d pulled out, making sure to clink the cups louder than necessary so he could pick up on their position on the table.

“It is not for a reason you may think,” he tilted his head, left ear twitching as he listened, and he continued when no sound but their breathing reached his ears. “I have already entrusted Hanzo with something of great importance to me, and I am hesitant to ask more of him than I already have. And with the sort of man he has grown to be, he would be unlikely to deny my request, even if he couldn’t take it on with all he juggles now.” She didn’t press for what Kenshi had already given him; it wasn’t her business, nor her concern, but he continued anyhow. “I left my son with him. To protect him, and,” he cut himself off, breath catching, “and because I was afraid. A coward.”

She knew about being a coward, about being afraid, and running at the first sign of trouble or pain. If she’d been able to, she’d have already run away from the S-F, but she felt compelled to stay somehow. Xiaoli debated with herself. He was baring his soul to her, and she was lying to him about everything by omission. “I know a thing or two about being a coward.” If confessions were to be given, then she would give him one to match his. “I have run from every problem I have ever had, just as I am running now. To your Hanzo next, and only the Gods know where to after.”

Kenshi was quiet for a moment. The water boiled and she poured some into each cup and mixed the tea thoroughly. “You’re a kind woman, Li.” He said very softly, almost inaudibly.

She corrected him, grasping her cup. “Xiaoli.” The swordsman drew his shoulders back. “Li was what my mother called me as a child. I never tell anyone my real name.” His hands stayed in his lap but his posture tightened, muscles ready to move if she said anything that might make him spring into action. “Ask me where I am from and I will tell you a hundred different places, all of them true and all of them a lie. Ask me what I am and I will say a Witch. But that does not answer the question.” Kenshi’s breathing quickened and he licked his lips. She heard the sword buzz, felt it’s signature blooming across the magical web that crawled through the realm, and he listened to what she couldn’t hear.

Kenshi took the cup of tea into his hand, raised it to his lips, and blew on the steam. “Xiaoli.” Her name on his tongue sent undue shivers down her spine, a spike in her traitorous pulse. “Who are you?” that stilled her. Who was she? She didn’t know anymore, hadn’t known in a long time, and she took a drink of her tea, ignoring how it scalded her tongue. The pain felt miniscule in comparison to the fear in her heart.

“I am not human, Kenshi. I was born in Outworld, a thousand years ago, and I left it a long time ago.” It was almost a relief to admit it, after refusing to speak of it for so long.

“How long ago?” he asked, not missing a beat, and she wondered if she shouldn’t be telling him this. But what did it matter anymore? She had been seen, been found out by those who chased her now, and so why not tell her new allies?

“Over seven hundred years now.” She swallowed thickly, “you must understand how dangerous it was for me to be there.” She set the cup down again, dread threatening to empty her belly. “Shao Khan had ruled my realm for many of my ancestor’s lives. Tens of thousands of years, Kenshi. It was complete domination.” She felt sick as she remembered why she’d fled. “Magic-users were being rounded up, tested upon. Those seen as worthy had the _honor_ of service to the Kahn,” she spat out the word honor like it had poisoned her, “and those who were not were sent to the Flesh Pits of his wizard. Many of my cousins fell rebelling against him. I fled instead. My first cowardly act.”

Kenshi was still, lips pressed into a thin line. “Why didn’t you tell us?” betrayal echoed in his tone.

“You never asked.”

She was startled by Kenshi’s laughter, nearly knocking over her tea, and he shook his head, left hand dragging over half his face. “We never asked. _I_ never asked. You saved one of our own, we’ve spent weeks together, and not one of us asked anything about you.” Kenshi’s expression grew firmly ashamed. “We assumed you were human because we’re in Earthrealm. We have not met many native Outworlders. We didn’t even consider it.”

She frowned deeply, a grief she’d never been able to put into words pulling at her heart. “You would not have. My people are few and far between nowadays. Shao Kahn was a harsh Emperor, and enjoyed experimenting. Few true Outworlders exist any longer. I expect my clan was wiped out long ago. They were traitors to the crown, and the sentence for treason is death.”

“Do you think you’re one of the last?”

“I am afraid to wonder. I left so long ago… we might have died out entirely, or we might persevere. I have never returned to Outworld, not since I left it. Earthrealm is my home now. I will live and die here, if I have my way.” She tried not to think about the life and the people she’d left behind. She’d nearly died tearing a hole between the realms and it was a frightening possibility she might’ve escaped genocide by her cowardice. She frowned at his troubled expression. “I was terrified of you, when we met.”

“ _Terrified?_ ” his tone was stricken, tight, and she reached across the table to touch the top of his gloved hand. His hand twitched when she touched him, but he didn’t move away. Not even when she lightly grasped it. Kenshi trembled slightly, “was your first impression of me so terrible?” he croaked.

“No, and that was the scariest part.” She swallowed her pride, her nervousness. “I knew you were a good man the moment I met you. But I also knew that good men do the right thing, or endeavor to, and I was afraid if I became too close…” she trailed off, staring at their hands again. How could something as small as his hand touching hers be so significant? “You would know what I was and you would _have_ to tell everyone.” His hand slowly turned in her loose grasp and she looked across at him when he did so, “and then I would have to run away again.”

“Don’t run away. Please,” he asked, voice soft and desperate, “I thought I’d hurt you, when we met, and when I could not hear even the slightest whisper from you, I thought you hated me. Even when I’m not trying to read people, I pick up interference, and with you there was nothing,” the pain in his tone was evident, sharp, and she slid her fingers between his, her pulse thrumming in her throat. A sharp intake of breath came from his side of the table. “Your secrets are your own, Xiaoli, but Hanzo must know. I will not—” she squeezed his hand to silence him.

“I could not ask you to lie for me, even if you were willing. Hanzo will know who I am. _What_ I am.”

Their tea had long since gone cold, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when Kenshi hadn’t let go of her hand yet; his nimble fingers curled around hers delicately, like he wasn’t sure it was alright to touch her. His other hand crept up from his lap and laid over the top of hers, cupping her hand between his; her breath caught as his thumb rubbed over her knuckles.

“Thank you.” Kenshi inclined his head. “I understand why you’re afraid, if it’s any consolation. I was in the Mortal Kombat tournament here in Earthrealm, years ago, when Shao Kahn tried to invade.” His jaw clenched, “and I met Shang Tsung long before that. Neither were good men, and neither were good experiences. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have been actively hunted by them.”

“I take comfort in knowing they died. They can never hurt me, or anyone else, ever again.” Her free hand slid up his wrist, squeezing gently on his forearm. Kenshi sighed softly, lips quirking into a smile, and she decided to take a risk. She had already told her deepest secrets to him, what was one more foolish action? Xiaoli sat up, leaned over the tea table, and moved her hand from his arm to his jaw. His lips fell open as he stuttered out a heavy exhale. Kenshi leaned into her touch minutely, and that bolstered her confidence.

She kissed him, just a brush of their lips, but it was enough to drag her in. He let her hand go and traced her arms up to her shoulders; goosebumps rose on her skin and she was almost embarrassed by the effect he had on her. He made her feel young, foolish, and bold again. And she craved contact. She’d denied herself it for years, believing herself undeserving, and she nearly wept when he kissed her back with fervor. Kenshi craved like she did, her touch electric on his heightened senses. He chased her lips, his short beard tickling her, and she steadied herself on the table with her newly freed hand. She laughed against his lips.

“This table is very much in my way,” she said, pulling away just enough to speak, and his breathing had already grown heavy. One of his hands drifted up, fingers caressing her shoulder and along her neck; she shuddered, an action Kenshi caught, and his lips fell to the left side of her neck, teasing kisses along the length. “ _Kenshi_ ,” she gasped, half scolding, and he was the one to laugh this time.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all, “I agree about the table. But I must ask, just to be clear; what are we doing here, Xiaoli?” he asked, seeming to gain back a sense of rationality, but not enough to pull himself from her entirely. She understood the feeling. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might need touch, she thought it was a thing she could avoid, but she longed for it. Xiaoli detangled herself from him gently, and he let her go the moment she began to pull away.

“I am acting on what we both feel. I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone before.” She shuffled around the table until she was beside him; her hand laid on his knee and he moved so they were face-to-face. “You can say no, Kenshi. I want you to want me, not give in to me.”

Kenshi started to undo the clasps and buckles on his gauntlets, peeling the leather off once the harder pieces had been opened; his bare hands were calloused and scarred, but strong and skilled, and she made a soft sound as he slid them up and along her arms. One moved up farther, past her neck, and he buried it in her hair. “Gods, I do,” he whispered, kissing the corner of her lips, “I want to touch you, hear you,” his other hand traced her body down to her narrow waist and he chuckled, “you’re smaller than I realized.” Her fingers worked up his chest and plucked open a few clasps there, but didn’t attempt to strip it off him yet.

“If we are stating facts, your armor is terribly complicated.” She huffed, shifting her head to kiss him soundly; he made quick work of her top while she struggled with his, and she was gasping against his mouth as his hands touched the bare skin of her stomach. She rolled her shoulders back as he pressed her wrap shirt off them. Kenshi groaned softly as he stroked her soft, supple skin. His other senses were increased tenfold by his blindness, and that included touch. She sucked his bottom lip, and he pressed his tongue into her mouth. They were both near panting now, and he cupped her breast in his hand, her nipple hard against his palm even through the fabric of her bra.

She trembled under his touch, nearly overwhelmed, and he let her go momentarily to shuck off his leather torso armor. Her hands were on him instantly, a surge of need rushing through her body. “Elder Gods, you are beautiful,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his bare skin, across his collarbone, and his hands slid up her back, shuddering; his fingers pressed into the contours of her body, mapping each curve, dragging them up to her shoulder blades, where he paused. A thick, rough scar crossed between them, a sloping angle from the back of her left shoulder to just around the curve below her right breast. His thumb followed the scar tissue carefully; it had healed and scarred terribly, the weapon that had made it full of dark magic, and she shivered.

“This nearly killed you.” He whispered, lips at the corner of her jaw.

“Yes,” his fingers undid the clasps of her bra and she tossed it to the side without care, her hands crawling along the scarred planes of his body, “you have your own share of scars, Kenshi.” Her nails pressed into his sensitive skin, dragging gently over his ribs, and Kenshi groaned, as starved for intimacy as she was. He had been passive thus far, touching only as far as she did, and she arched her body against his; his hands spurred into action, stroking her sides, grasping her tight enough to shift her position.

“Seems we have both lived hard lives,” he murmured before kissing her again and again, plush mouth confident against hers now; she grabbed one of his hands and pulled his touch around to the front of her, his fingers just brushing the underside of her breast; Kenshi touched her gently, the backs of his fingers barely touching her, and she sighed as her nipples hardened with the anticipation. She nipped his bottom lip, pulling away at his needy responding sound.

“You need not be so hesitant, Kenshi,” one of her hands rose to stoke his jaw, enjoying the feel of his beard on her skin, and her thumb rubbed his cheek, just under his covered eyes. “May I take this off?” he nodded, at a loss for words, and his hands shifted to grasp her much tighter than before as she leaned up to reach behind his head. He pressed his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, and she shivered. Her fingers made quick work of the knot keeping the silk around his eyes, and she unwrapped the layers gently. His expressive brow and pale, cloudy eyes were revealed to her. She traced his features, along his nose, over his cheeks, and across his brow. “Perfect— _oh!_ ” Kenshi tugged her forward by her hips, one of his muscled thighs sliding between her legs; she gasped loudly, startled and pleased by his instant movement at her prompting, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to steady herself.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he silenced her with his lips, kissing her with such passion it blew her away. Xiaoli groaned into his mouth, sliding one into his hair and tugging when he pressed his thigh up and against her harder. The material of her pants was thin, his armored leg hard, and she whined, clenching her thighs around his. One of his hands dropped to grasp her ass, squeezing hard enough to elicit another needy sound from her. Two could play at the teasing game, and she ground down on him, moaning as she found an angle that sent heat to her belly.

“You are _quite_ the tease,” he said between kisses, hands grasping under her thighs tightly as she raked her nails lightly down in response to his statement. He grunted, squeezing her harder, “can I move you onto your back?”

“You are not the first to call me a tease,” she shrugged, peeking back behind her to ensure there was nothing she’d be knocked into, and she turned back to Kenshi. “Yes. Be mindful of the table to the left though, I would hate to ruin the mood with broken ceramic.” He laughed, tipping her backwards easily and laying her down carefully. Kenshi pressed himself down on her body, a stifled groan falling past his lips as she spread her thighs to let him settle between them.

“You still want this?” he asked, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses across her upper chest, dipping to kiss down her sternum on the return trip. She could feel how wet she was already, how much she wanted him.

“ _Yes_ ,” he suckled at the tops of her breasts, teeth dragging across her heated flesh, and she moaned his name, pressing her body up against his. His beard scratched pleasantly as he moved, mouth on one breast and his hand kneading the other; he had found a steady, eager rhythm, lips teasing across her skin and his hands making more progress. Kenshi found the laces to her pants and slowly tugged them open, confident but trembling slightly. His fingers traced the seams until he found the waistband, hooked them in, and tugged them down; down her thighs, her calves, until he sat up and tossed them aside. Kenshi’s touch drug from her knees to her hips, pausing for a moment.

“No underwear?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his tone. She flushed, thankful he couldn’t see it, though he must have sensed her shyness because he kissed her softly, trailing more of them down her jaw, nuzzling below her ear.

“ _Mm_ ,” she hummed, pleased, “I have limited clothing, as I had to leave behind things when I fled the city.” He did laugh this time.

“So, it’s wash day?” she pushed his shoulder playfully and he broke into more laughter, a sound that sent her heart racing and her stomach tumbling. “Not like I can see anyhow.” He shifted down her body, mouth tracing its way down her stomach and across her lower belly; Kenshi was between her legs now, his arms tucked under thighs, and she felt anticipation rise in her. Her eyes closed as his wet kisses rolled over her hips, moaning as his tongue traced the hollow of her thigh.

“ _Kenshi_ ,” she whimpered, an embarrassing sound she almost wished she hadn’t made, but Kenshi’s reaction was tangible. He froze for half a second, grasped her thighs as he recovered, and spread them further; she squirmed at the cool air of his room hitting her bare, sensitive flesh. Kenshi moved again, his head between her legs, and she held her breath, wetness gathering in her core at his proximity, the thought of him—she moaned as his nose pressed into her folds.

“I like the way you sound,” Kenshi kissed her labia, teasing his tongue along the insides of both sides, and she sighed, head falling back. He grinned against her. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at this. Let’s see if I’m rusty.” One of his hands moved around from her back of her thigh to her pussy, thumb stroking through her wet folds, the calloused pad pressing against her hood and rubbing gentle circles, slow and patient; he worked her up thoroughly, fanning the flames that threatened to consume her into a blaze, and he teased his teeth over the jut of her hip bone, drawing out another moan. He suckled harder there, pleased when her hips twisted upward, and he pinned her down. “This will be better if you’re _good_ , Xiaoli.”

She lifted her head to argue, a bit of indignation rising in her chest, but it withered away when his tongue replaced his thumb, circling over her clit; he hooked her legs over his shoulders, anchoring them against him. Kenshi sucked her clit into his mouth, tongue twisting over the sensitive nub, and she cried out, thighs squeezing slightly, and he pressed harder, hungry, and she clenched around nothing. “Gods,” she groaned, one hand curling into his thick, dark hair, and he moaned as she pulled in response to his skilled movements.

Kenshi shifted around again, never staying in one place for very long, and his strong, nimble fingers stroke through her folds, his shoulders shuddering at her wetness. “Tell me how badly you want this,” his voice pleaded as her breathing turned to pants, her body pressing against his fingers. Kenshi slowly stroked two fingers into her, with languid movements as she groaned his name into the now stuffy air.

“I _need_ you,” she gasped, struggling to find the words as he lapped at her clit, shockwaves of pleasure jumping along her spine, “Kenshi, please,” she cursed under her breath, his beard scraping against her thighs as he picked up his pace, mouth greedy, and she clenched down on his curling fingers. “In a thousand years I have never wanted anyone more, oh, _oh_ ,” she ground against his face, head tossed back as she cried her pleasure to the world. She didn’t care who heard, who wondered—she was the luckiest woman in Earthrealm with Kenshi kneeled between her thighs, his tongue tugging on the tightening knot of pleasure that ached in her body. No one had touched her in so long, let alone so gently and passionately, and she felt her breathing pick up, the hand in his hair fisting tightly and the other grasping at his shoulder. If she’d been more aware of herself, she might’ve been embarrassed by how loud she was, how desperate she sounded, but none of that seemed important, not when Kenshi’s tongue replaced his fingers and she was crying out.

“Kenshi, _Kenshi_ ,” she called, on the cusp, thighs trembling around his ears; his thumb returned to her clit and her back bowed, the tension pushing on her body snapping suddenly. Xiaoli cried his name out again, thighs wrapped around his head as she came hard, gasping, dizziness taking over her body as she collapsed against the floor again. Sweat rolled off her, between her breasts, and dampening her hair. She let out a series of panting gasps, aftershocks pulsing through her body as his tongue worked her through her climax.

She was shaking when he pulled away, his hands stroking the outsides of her thighs reverently. Xiaoli cracked her eyes open to gaze up at him; he was sitting up between her legs now, sightless eyes turned down toward her, she took the bleary moment to take him in properly. He was disheveled, more so than she’d ever seen him, with his hair mussed and his pale skin shining with sweat. Dark hair was spread thinly over his chest, vanishing as it reached his middle, and reappearing near the waistband of his pants, a trail of hair leading down past them. He was panting too, and she leaned up onto her elbows.

“We have two options here for you,” she hummed, still a little breathless, “I can return the favor,” she wiggled her hips playfully, snorting a little when he gently released his grip on her. Her legs were jelly, unstable and shaky. “Or you can fuck me. I would prefer the latter, but it _is_ the gentleman’s choice now.” She sat up with her newly freed legs, feeling debauched and invigorated. He wrinkled his nose at her language and she tugged his armored pants, chuckling. “Not a ‘ _fucking_ ’ sort of man?” she emphasized the word, finding the clasps on his lower garb easier to deal with than the top. Simpler design made sense for the lower half. They wouldn’t be much use if it took him twenty minutes to relieve himself between spars. She kissed him sweetly, trying to soothe away his discomfort.

“I’d prefer not to be so vulgar when it comes to this, yes.” It took them both shifting to free him from the garb, and she stroked his cock through his tight underwear when he settled back on his knees, the shape of him straining against the material. Kenshi moaned, and she took his vulnerable moment to press back against him, her hand slipping into his underwear to grasp him gently. He was thicker than she’d expected, and it sent a thrill up her spine. His jaw clenched, his hips twitching into her touch, and she wondered how long it had been for him. Or perhaps he was always so sensitive, his blindness turning his other senses superhuman.

“I want to ride you. Would you be alright with that?” His nose slid across her cheek, nuzzling along her jaw as he controlled his breathing; her hand pumped him slowly, barely touching him.

“Yes,” he whispered against her skin, pressing soft kisses to her neck, and she sighed, warm from her head to her toes. They parted just long enough to pull away his underclothes and for her to push him down on his ass, his cock hard and red-tipped, aching to be touched. It was a shame she hadn’t had the chance to suck him, but they had time for that she supposed. She shuffled until she was nearly straddling him; his hands curled around her, one at her waist and one on her hip, and she leaned her wet pussy against him for a teasing moment, sliding him through her folds. Kenshi’s breath caught and amusement flickered across his expression.

“Ready?” he nodded and she lifted her hips, leaning forward toward him a little as she searched for the angle she’d most easily take his girth at. She held his cock steady with one hand and slowly slid down on him. Xiaoli moaned softly, stretching deliciously to accommodate him, and his hold on her tightened more and more as she took him in. His hips twitched a little, sweat beading down his temple, and she laid her hands on his chest; his cock was fully sheathed inside of her now. “ _Mm_ , yes,” she ground her hips forward a little, his cock slipping out an inch or so before sliding back in, “doing alright, Kenshi? I imagine this can be a lot for you with your senses…” she trailed off, stroking his cheek with care; she hadn’t cared for someone like this in centuries. It was hard to love humans when they died after such a short life. The untimely death of her first human lover had almost been enough to keep her from them entirely. But Kenshi called to her in a way no else did.

Kenshi kissed her soundly, sloppier than his previous kisses, but unrestrained, before he answered her. “I’ll let you know if it becomes too much. I’ve learned ways to avoid sensory overload, but it still happens on occasion.” She kissed him softly again, finding herself craving the simple affection of it. She lifted herself up halfway and slid herself down again, shivering at his cock sliding in and out her still sensitive pussy. It took her several experimental movements to find a pace that had Kenshi groaning against her throat, his mouth pressing needy kisses into her flesh.

“Just— _uh_ —just as good as I knew you would feel,” she whispered, the slick sound of his cock in her wet cunt filling the room; the room smelled of sweat, sex, and jasmine tea. One of his hands stroked along her spine, fingers tracing patterns she couldn’t parse, and she moaned when he pressed into the small of her back, cocking her hips forward just the slightest bit more and changing the angle. He slipped in and out of her easier and she took advantage to bounce in his lap faster, harder. Kenshi choked out her name, his hips chasing her rise and fall now.

The buzz of pleasure clouded her mind again, her most pressing thought focused on the heavy slide of his cock. His hand pressed between their bodies, rolling her swollen clit with his thumb, and her rhythm stuttered as she clenched around him, breath catching on a whimper. Kenshi slid her closer to him, his strength coming into play as he took control of her movements. He rolled his hips into each downward stroke, just as vocal as she, and her legs shook around him slightly. “Been too long for this to last much longer,” he whispered, voice raspy with pleasure and a bit of shame, “where,” he grunted, eyes fluttering, “where do you want me?” she ground down on his cock, hips moving in slow, purposeful circles.

“Right where you are,” she panted, kissing his pectorals as she pushed him down flat on his back with little effort. He moaned loudly, his thighs folding behind her back. “I have a spell for your conceptual worries,” she said, glossing over his worry of begetting a child on her, “let yourself go, Kenshi. It is alright. I have you.” She began to move faster once more, pussy clenched around him as she slid him in and out of her body, and his fingers kept her clit pinched between them, rolling the nearly over sensitized nub firmly, and it started a familiar fire in her core that kept her bouncing eagerly, chasing both their releases. Kenshi’s eyes closed, his mouth falling open, and his brow pinched tightly.

“ _Xiaoli_ ,” he moaned, circling her clit faster, chest heaving as he grew close to his climax, “I—I’m,” she nodded out of habit, steadying herself with a hand on his broad chest, and didn’t slow her pace. Kenshi stilled, groaning loudly, and held her down on his cock by her hip. Xiaoli gasped, cunt clenching around him as he came, and she fell into her own climax, shaking atop his trembling body. She cried out loudly after a moment of silent gasping, her body stiff and upright, and she collapsed against his chest, struggling to catch her stolen breath.

Kenshi’s arms curled around her sweat-slick, exhausted body, his ragged breaths matching her own, and he laughed softly, shivering as she slowly lifted off him.

“Something funny, Kenshi?” she asked, his cum dripping down her thigh, “Do you have a rag I can clean up with? I doubt you could explain away such suspicious stains on your floors.” He sat up slowly, unwilling to let her go just yet, and he pressed a sweet kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“Simply musing on how differently this talk went than I thought it would. You’re alright?” She rolled her eyes, something he couldn’t see, but she let him pull her closer, the stickiness not uncomfortable yet. “There should be a towel you can clean up with in the closet, folded on the left shelf.” Xiaoli kissed him firmly before slipping from his grasp, his hold becoming slack when she pulled away, and she padded naked toward the closet.

“I was unable to resist your charms, it seems.” She teased him, opening the closet and searching for the clean towel. She found one, pale blue and worn from extended use, and grabbed it. She tilted her head at a long white robe in the closet, a higher quality garment than the rest in his closet. She grabbed that too and padded back to him. His head followed her footsteps, and though he said nothing, the grin he wore spoke enough for them both. She opened the tea pot and dipped the towel in the leftover, still warm water and started to wipe herself down, cleaning between her legs first. “Though I did not come here expecting to be so thoroughly pleased, I am happy nonetheless. You were most certainly not _rusty_ , as you put it. Oh, and I have stolen your robe for the time being.”

Kenshi glowed with the pleased demeanor of a man who had successfully made her cum twice in less than an hour. “I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the soft fabric rustled as she pulled it on the robe. “I have another. I’m known to bend to a good deal.” He began standing up, but paused, humor fading from his face. “Someone’s coming. Johnny, I think,” she snapped her eyes toward the sliding door and then looked back toward him, “I don’t know if you want him to see you or not. He may barge in. He has no tact like that.”

“I am not ashamed to be here. Are you?” she wrapped the robe tightly around her body and tied it closed. Xiaoli was a thousand years old. She was hard to shame, hard to embarrass, and she wasn’t put off by Johnny Cage knowing who she’d slept with. In fact, she’d likely be amused by his reaction.

Kenshi finished standing, “No. But he may be obnoxious.” She laughed, shrugging.

“I suppose I signed on for obnoxiousness when I saved his life.”

He made his way to the closet himself this time and pulled on only a soft pair of dark colored pants, no doubt something he usually put on under his armor, and he made a startled sound from across the room. “It’s going to take a while to find all my armor pieces. I’m normally much more organized about their care.”

She smirked to herself, remembering the desperation in which he peeled off and tossed his gloves, yearning to touch her skin with his own. “You were quite distracted, Kenshi. And I will help.” Loud footsteps reached her ears and she arched a brow. “You heard his approach from quite the distance.” Kenshi flushed and returned to her side, touching her arm gently, rough hands catching slightly on the fabric of the robe.

“I was listening out for interruptions. I didn’t want you to be seen in a situation you didn’t want to be.” Her heart warmed at his care for her, and she caressed his jaw, stroking his beard. His eyes closed, leaning into her touch, and he placed a hand over hers, savoring the moment before Johnny began banging on the doorframe.

“Hey, yo, Kenshi!” he called out, “You in there? I’m dying to hear what Li had to say about the Shirai-Ryu thing.” She could see his shadow on the other side of the thick screen, his hands waving as he said ‘thing’. Xiaoli stifled a laugh, pulling away from Kenshi as his friend continued to knock. Mischief filled her, a carefree sort of amusement awaiting her, and she made for the door before Kenshi could.

Kenshi’s brow furrowed, “What are you doing?” he followed her steps, a few feet behind her when she grasped onto the hand and began to move the door.

“Showing Johnny what being nosy gets him.”

Xiaoli opened the door. She knew what she looked like, and so did he. Her hair was a tousled mess, her mouth puffy from Kenshi’s fervent kisses, and she was wearing a robe. A robe he had probably seen Kenshi wear before. All while answering his door, and Johnny’s voice died on his tongue. He stared and she stared back, grinning wickedly, and Kenshi came up behind her, disheveled and shirtless, and he blinked. He looked from her, to Kenshi, and then back again.

“Oh my God.”


End file.
